


Beautiful Inside and Out

by The Muse of Apollo (mtwb)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, No Voldemort, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28250808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtwb/pseuds/The%20Muse%20of%20Apollo
Summary: Harry knows who he wants to take to the Yule Ball. The only problem is she hates his guts. How does he get Hermione to say yes?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 35
Kudos: 138
Collections: Harmony Advent Collection 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2020 Harmony & Co Advent Calendar. Effusive thanks to AlexandraO for beta-ing this for me. It was a mess before she worked her magic on it. Commas all over the place. Merry Christmas to everyone. Stay safe and happy. 2020 is almost over, friends.

Harry James Potter enjoyed being in Slytherin House. He was a loner most of the time, and he appreciated that most of the snakes just let him be. The few blood purists that were still around soon learned to leave the Potter heir alone or risk being seriously injured. It was an easy lesson for them to learn because even as a first year, Harry’s wand had been deadly. After all, he’d been raised by Severus Snape, and the man wasn’t ever going to put up with a ‘dunderhead’ as a ward.

The only problem with being in the house of snakes was that the other three houses always looked upon them with suspicion or loathing, or both. While Harry enjoyed his solitude sometimes, he still found it hard to be constantly looked at with disdain by 250 people.

The situation was even worse now that the Yule Ball was approaching and he desperately wanted to find someone outside of Slytherin House to take as a date.

Harry had considered asking someone from his own house, but in the end, he decided against it. For one, there were only two real viable options his age that he would even consider. Daphne Greengrass had been his friend since first year, and they got along very well. It didn’t hurt that she was also very beautiful.

The problem was that he just didn’t see her in a romantic way and Harry was pretty sure that she felt the same way treating him like a brother most of the time. He also thought she had her eye on Theo as a possible partner, and Harry wasn’t going to get in the way of her happiness just so he had a date to the ball.

The only other option was Pansy Parkinson, and she had her head so far up Malfoy’s arse that Draco’s nose hairs were brown instead of blonde.

With the only real options in Slytherin House ruled out, Harry had decided that he would look at the other girls in his year or maybe even the year above.

Gryffindor was ruled out right off the bat. The competition and, well, hatred between the two houses was as legendary as it was fierce. Mostly, the rivalry was focused on the organized sports teams–Quidditch, Magical Football, and Quadpot–and the competitive clubs such as gobstones, debate, and the individual academic teams. But those things were so entrenched into Hogwarts life, the rivalry seemed to be equally entrenched. It would make it very hard to find a girl from Gryffindor and have a good time with her.

Hufflepuff was an option but there was only one girl there that Harry would consider. Susan Bones was gorgeous and she was very bright so they would have something to talk about. Unfortunately, Harry knew that Uncle Severus wasn’t on great terms with Susan’s aunt, so Harry decided that she was not the best option.

He would have considered Hannah Abbot but she was going steady with Tracey Davis, which was why Davis had been ruled out of Harry’s options in Slytherin.

After that, Harry didn’t really know anyone in Hufflepuff. If Tonks was still at Hogwarts, Harry would have asked her in a minute. They’d always gotten along, but she had graduated the year before and was now working her way through her first year at the Auror Academy.

That left Ravenclaw, and there were three options in that house which Harry considered. First was Padma Patil. Harry quickly put her in the no column, mostly because he couldn’t stand her sister. Second was Luna Lovegood. She was a nice enough girl but was a bit too flighty for him so he added her to the no column as well.

That left Harry with a serious problem. The only girl he would even consider going to the Yule Ball with was the one girl who absolutely hated his guts.

Hermione Granger. 

Muggleborn, stubborn, beautiful, and frightfully intelligent. She was number two in their class, just behind Harry, and honestly, the only reason Harry had the top spot was because he got more favorable grades in Potions due to Uncle Sev being the teacher. That half a grade was always the difference between spot one and spot number two.

Hermione hated the fact that he beat her not because he was better at potions than her–though he was because he’d been brewing since he was old enough to read–but because of his relation to the professor.

Her hatred of him had been brewing since their first year when he had beat her on the first exam and had only gotten worse since then.

Harry liked her though. He could admit that it was fun to counter her vitriol with politeness and kindness. It usually only served to make her angrier with him. Harry could also admit that since they’d gone through puberty, she had turned into a very pretty girl. And she was even more attractive when she got frustrated or angry.

The question was, could Harry get Hermione to look past their competition and give him a chance at a date for the Yule Ball?

It would take all his cunning along with a sliver of Gryffindor courage, but Harry decided that he had nothing to lose. If he was going to pull off this feat, he knew he was going to need some help.

-:::-

Severus Snape hated grading papers. It was why he only ever assigned four essays per class each year. It made it easier for him to avoid, as much as possible, the messy scrawl of first and second years who couldn’t figure out which end of the quill to use, let alone how to properly describe the brewing process of whatever potion.

With a sigh, Severus slashed through another paragraph and left a scathing remark in the margin of a third year’s most recent ‘effort.’

He was brought out of his grumbling by the sound of someone knocking on his office door. “Enter!”

Severus looked up in time to see his ward, Harry Potter, enter his office. Severus could tell that Harry had something to say, so he put his quill down and turned to give Harry his complete attention.

Harry and Severus had an odd relationship. It was somewhere between that of a father and an Uncle. In 1981, when Voldemort called upon the Potter house and slaughtered James and Lily Potter, Severus was just a few minutes too late to help. He’d been the one to tell Voldemort about the prophecy, but the damn thing had been so vague that Severus hadn’t even considered that it would lead to the demise of his best friend and her husband.

Being too late for all except Harry, Severus had pledged from that moment on to ensure that Lily’s child was the best he could be. It had taken some fast talking, but Snape had been able to convince Dumbledore that Harry would be better off with him than being shoved off on some hapless muggles.

Now, 14 years later, Severus was quite sure that it was the best thing he’d ever decided to do as he’d always thought that he was a terrible person. While he wasn’t as bad as some of his fellow Slytherins, he had still joined the Death Eaters at age 17 despite having a muggleborn best friend. He’d been drawn in by talk of ‘changing the world’ and making ‘it as the world should be.’

It hadn’t taken him long to discover that the change the Dark Lord wanted was to put himself in a position of power over everyone, no matter the cost. So Snape had turned spy for the light and hadn’t looked back. He still didn’t consider himself a good person though. He was snarky, mean spirited, and hated idiots with a burning passion. Snape also knew he held grudges better than he could brew potions, and he was a damn good potions master.

When he’d taken in Harry, Snape had to quickly get over himself. A little boy needed him and Snape had pledged to ensure that Harry had a great life and became all he could be. In the process of raising Harry, Severus started to see changes in himself. Despite despising every breath that James Potter took, Severus Snape loved Harry Potter as if the boy were his own son.

“What’s going on, Harry?” Severus asked.

Harry blushed, which made it hard for Severus to hold in his usual stern expression. It wouldn’t do to break out into a huge grin. He had a reputation to keep, after all. 

“I need your advice, Uncle Sev.”

“Oh? Having problems with a potion?”

“No. N-nothing like that.”

“Then, what? I’m horrible at transfiguration, you know that,” Snape said, still hiding his grin. Messing with Harry was one of his favorite past times.

“N-no, it’s not homework.”

“Oh? Malfoy giving you problems again?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “The moron may have finally learned his lesson. He hasn’t bothered me since the train ride.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t retaliate, or you’d have ended up in detention,” Snape said snidely.

Harry smirked, which made Severus roll his eyes. Draco Malfoy was the least Slytherin wizard he’d ever met. The boy couldn’t be more Gryffindor if he tried. Always boldly rushing into any situation, especially where Harry was concerned. The two had never gotten along.

On the train ride, Draco had once again gotten it into his head that gloating was a Slytherin trait, and had tried to boast about knowing all about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Of course, Harry had already known since Severus had told him, but that didn’t stop Malfoy from being his usual pompous prick. Harry had sparred with the blonde-headed idiot for minutes before Malfoy had drawn his wand. According to Harry’s memories of it, Harry had just smirked and looked over Malfoy’s shoulder where the Head Boy was standing watching the entire thing play out.

Snape had been so proud to learn that Harry had sent a messenger spell off to the Head Boy to get Malfoy caught without getting into trouble himself. Harry had really become a fantastic little Slytherin.

“So, if it isn’t Lucius’ spawn that is giving you problems, what’s the issue?” Severus asked.

“I, uh, w-wanted to ask you about a girl,” Harry stuttered.

Snape grinned. He couldn’t help it. Harry was usually so confident. Seeing him standing there, looking down at the ground, a light blush on his cheeks, was adorable and reminded Severus so much of Lily that it almost brought tears to his eyes. With a shake of his head, he pushed away that sentimentality and tried to school his features.

He wasn’t quite quick enough, because Harry looked up at the last second and saw the grin on Severus’ face.

“Uncle Sev. Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing,” Snape said. “It’s just...you’re having girl problems and you came to me. Why didn’t you mirror Black? He’d have more experience with this than I would.”

Harry scowled. “Well, I had hoped that you wouldn’t make fun of me. Sirius would spend at least twenty minutes taking the mickey, and then he’d try to give me advice that no one in their right minds would follow. I’d get hexed all the way to London if I followed any advice from that old dog.”

“Ah, Harry. You know Black all too well. Very well, what is it you wanted to ask?”

“How do I ask a girl out if she hates my guts?”

Snape looked at his ward curiously. “How do you know this crush of yours hates you?”

“I mean, she’s always yelling at me and scowling and,” Harry shrugged. “Hermione always dislikes that I do better than her at potions. She thinks you favor me over her.”

Snape scoffed. “I do not. You’re better than her at potions.”

Harry blushed but didn’t say anything.

“So, Miss Granger, huh? Well, I can’t say she doesn’t hate you, but I don’t think it’s as bad as you think. She’s just jealous.”

“How do I get her past that and agree to be my date for the Yule Ball?”

“Well, you could throw the next potions quiz and let her win,” Snape suggested. “But if you do that, I’m letting Black prank you all summer after I take away your wand.”

Harry paled, which made Severus smirk. He’d never like Black, but he couldn’t deny that the man loved his godson. He also loved to make his godson suffer with all sorts of pranks. Once Harry had gotten his wand, any time that Sirius had come over to their house, he was always setting magical pranks on the poor boy. Severus had so far allowed Harry to fight back with whatever magic he knew. Taking away that defense was a terrific, terrifying threat.

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Snape asked after enjoying his ward’s discomfort for a few moments.

“She’d say no. Probably laugh in my face after hexing me,” Harry answered immediately.

“You don’t know that. I’ve always thought she liked you.”

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, which made Snape guffaw. The boy had picked up way too many of his own facial expressions. It was so odd to see the Snape eye roll or sneer on James Potter’s face.

“You never know, Harry. It worked...eventually for your father and you’re not nearly as big a toerag as he was.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

Snape shrugged. “What else are you going to do? Go apologize that you’re better than her at potions so her enormous ego isn’t so hurt? She’s too arrogant to take that well, you know that, Harry. She likes being the top of the class and since she isn’t she resents you for it. Never mind that being number two as a muggleborn is a damned near impossible accomplishment. No, no, she has to be upset that she missed out on number one by 4 percent.” Snape scoffed. “Ask her. If she says no, you can do better.”

Harry sighed.

“Sorry, Harry. When it comes to women, there isn’t much I can tell you other than to be upfront with them. Most girls like it if you just be honest. Get her some flowers or chocolate or something and be romantic about it.”

“Thanks, Uncle Sev.”

“Come back and let me know what she says,” Snape said with a fond smile. “If she says no, we can go get ice cream or something. I’m sure that’s what the teenagers all want when their hearts are broken.”

“That’d be more comforting if you didn’t sneer when you say it,” Harry said with a laugh.

Snape watched his ward leave his office. Before turning back to his marking, he let out a booming laugh. A Potter chose a bookworm once again. It never failed.

-:::-

Harry should have known asking Uncle Sev for advice would be pointless. The man had no use for frivolities or sentimentality. While he had been a great guardian and was affectionate in his own way, Harry would never classify Severus Snape as the best when it came to expressing emotions.

He also knew that Sirius wasn’t an option. As he had told his uncle, Sirius would be much too pleased about Harry finally asking about a girl and then would proceed to give the raunchiest advice ever. Probably something along the lines of “here’s how you get in a witch’s knickers.” That would not only be pointless advice but would see Harry’s bollocks cursed off in seconds.

So, no, Sirius wasn’t an option. Harry could ask Daphne. She would give him some insight into the female mind. But Daphne  _ hated _ Hermione with a passion. Ironically enough, it was for the same reason Hermione hated Harry. Hermione always beat Daphne who was number three in their class. That meant Daphne was also out on the advice front. 

Harry dragged himself back to the Slytherin dorms and flopped down on his bed. He liked the Slytherin dorms well enough. They were kind of dark sometimes, but he loved having his own room. It allowed him to ward his space so the likes of Malfoy couldn’t bother him.

How was he going to ask Hermione out? Could it be so simple that all he had to do was ask after giving her a bunch of flowers?

No, it couldn’t be that simple. Uncle Sev was wrong. Hermione would definitely knock him back if all he did was go up to her and ask her to the ball.

Harry buried his face into his pillow and let out a loud moan. This was impossible. Why couldn’t he like someone who actually liked him back?


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Granger sat at her favorite table in the library working on the latest potions assignment. Professor Snape didn’t assign essays often–Hermione always assumed that it was because the potion’s master couldn’t stand to read them, but when he did, they were always worth a good portion of the semester’s grade.

And every term, Hermione always came in second. But not this time. This time she’d edge out Potter for the top spot, reclaim her title of top student, and then all would be right in the world.

Hermione flipped another page in one of her reference books and pushed one of her long brown curls back behind her ear. The damn hair was definitely not staying where it was supposed to today.

She was brought out of her studying by someone sitting in the chair across from her. She scowled before she looked up. Hermione had chosen this table way back in first year because it was in the back of the massive library and was hardly ever visited by anyone. It sat in a section on wizarding law that Hermione knew was hardly ever used because the more up-to-date law books were stored elsewhere. After she had ‘claimed’ the table, people slowly realized that it was hers and that she shouldn’t be messed with while sitting here.

Now someone had broken that peace.

When Hermione finally looked away from the essay she was writing her mouth dropped open in shock for a moment. Harry  _ bloody _ Potter sat across from her, bold as brass, smiling like it was perfectly fine that he was sitting at her table. Like she didn’t hate his guts for getting preferential treatment from his guardian and beating her at potions.

Not that she really hated him, or at least she didn’t hate him anymore. She had finally had enough of it all during her second year and had confronted Professor Snape about his preferential treatment of his ward. The man had sneered at her and said simply,  _ “Potter is better than you. He’s been brewing since he was old enough to do so safely. He could take his NEWTS right now and pass. So of course, he’s better than you.” _

Hermione had wanted to cry. And rage at the injustice of her rival being taught from a young age to become a potion’s prodigy.

But then her professor shocked her. He had placed a hand on her shoulder, which caused her to look up at him, her eyes wet.

“ _ Don’t be upset about it, Miss Granger. You may be number two in the class, but you’re ahead of everyone else. There hasn’t been a muggleborn as talented as you since the 1970sand she gave birth to your greatest rival.” _

“ _ Harry’s mum?” _

“ _ Indeed. Lily Potter was just as brilliant as you are. There’s a reason why Harry tries so hard at everything. He wants to make her proud of him.” _

“ _ I didn’t know.” _

“ _ Of course, you didn’t. You couldn’t have. So, don’t take it personally that Harry is just a little better than you at something. He’s worked just as hard as you at being the best.” _

Since then, every barb Hermione had thrown at her rival had been mostly to keep up appearances. After her talk with her professor, Hermione could admit, at least to herself, that she’d become a bit obsessed with Harry Potter. He really was an impressive young wizard. Handsome, of course, but more, he was truly so very smart.

Once she had started to think that way, Hermione couldn’t deny that she found his intelligence very attractive. Not that she would ever tell him that. Oh, no. Not a chance in...well, just no. Never.

“What do you want, Potter? Come to gloat about how you’re going to cheat in potions again?”

Harry never gloated, Hermione knew. He was always polite about everything too. He never tried to make fun of her or even ever try to hit back. He always just smiled and said something nice. When she really hated him, it pissed her off more than anything. To be so mad at someone and to have them not engage with that anger was more infuriating than him ‘cheating’ at potions.

“Uh, no. I came to ask for help, actually.”

Hermione looked at him, surprised. Harry never asked for help from anyone as far as she knew. He was good at  _ everything _ . It was part of the reason why she had been so upset with him for the last three years.

“Help?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m having some problems with arithmancy and I thought maybe you could help me.”

“Why not go to the professor?”

“Professor Babbling scares me a bit,” Harry said, his cheeks flushing. Hermione would deny that it made him even more attractive.

Hermione couldn’t help it. She laughed. A little too loudly, but since they were so deep into the library, she didn’t have to worry too much about disturbing others. Harry flushed a little more. Adorably.

“Scares you? Potter, your guardian is the most feared professor to teach here since Salazar himself. How could Professor Babbling scare you? She barely reaches five feet tall!”

Harry shrugged. “It isn’t anything in particular. It’s just that she’s so intense. Sometimes I think she will start talking about Arithmancy and just never stop and we’ll all be stuck in the classroom with her for all eternity.”

Hermione laughed again. “That’s ridiculous. Hilarious. But also silly. But why me? You’re friends with Greengrass. She’s just as good as I am in Arithmancy. And she actually likes you.”

Hermione noticed a brief flash of hurt on his face, but he pushed it aside. “Daphne just asked Theo to the Yule Ball and I think they’re going to start courting. I don’t want to get in the way of that. Will you help me?”

“What’s in it for me?” Hermione asked after studying her rival for a few moments.

“Are you sure you’re not Slytherin?” Harry asked, his eyes dancing with humor.

“Pretty sure. Doesn’t mean I can’t get something back for having to deal with you for however long it takes to get you to learn something so easy as math.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you want?”

Hermione thought for a moment. She really didn’t mind helping him. But she had a persona to stick to, so she decided to ask for something she knew he would never want to give, not in a million years.

“If I help you, then I want you to take me to the Yule Ball.”

Harry looked at her, shock clear on his face.

“But you don’t want to go with me,” Harry said. “Why would you want  _ that  _ and not something else?”

“Well, the only other thing I could think to ask for was for you to tutor me in potions and that would mean admitting that you’re better than me at that subject, which I will  _ never _ do.”

Harry smirked. “I’ll tell you what. We can study together for potions. And I’ll take you to the Yule Ball. Especially since I don’t actually need help with Arithmancy, and was just hoping that I could spend time with you.”

Hermione glared at him. “So you were playing me?”

“Kind of,” Harry said with a shrug. “I’ve liked you for a year. I know you don’t like me, but I wanted to ask you to the ball. I figured the easiest way to get you to say yes was to show you that I’m not such a bad guy.”

“So you lied to me.”

Harry blushed. “Only so I could spend time with you, doesn’t that count?”

Hermione frowned at him. “Because you like me.”

“Yes,” Harry said, his blush deepening. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it this way. I’ll just leave you alone.”

Hermione watched as he stood. She didn’t let him go far. She grabbed his hand to stop him from leaving and pulled him back towards her table.

“I’ll go with you. But never lie to me again. I don’t like to be lied to. It would have been so much easier if you had just asked me. I would have said yes.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I’ve liked you since last year.”

“Then why do you still snipe at me?”

“Well, it’s kind of fun. Plus, it gives me someone to compete with. It’s made me better even if I never beat you at anything. It’s made me want to do better.” Hermione shrugged. “I know I take it too far sometimes. I don’t really mean to hurt you or say mean things. But it’s just so familiar, sometimes it's hard not to say the sharpest thing that comes to mind.”

“I understand. I probably would have freaked out if you had stopped last year.”

“Well, I guess I can stop now. Though I will still beat you someday, at something.”

Harry laughed. “You’ll probably beat me at the Yule Ball.”

“Oh, why?”

“I can’t dance.”

Hermione giggled. “I can. See, I told you I was better than you at something.”

“Laugh it up, princess. Will you teach me?”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying you need help to woo me or something?”

“Nope. Can’t dance a lick.”

“Fine. I’ll teach you. But if you break my toes, I’ll hex you.”

“Deal.”

The two teenagers stood and grinned goofily at one another for much longer than they would have considered appropriate under other circumstances. Neither of them really cared about convention this time, however. For now, they were just both happy that they had the date they wanted for the ball. The rest would sort itself out.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry walked into the abandoned classroom for his first dance lesson with Hermione right on time. His cheeks were still a little flushed from his conversation with Uncle Sev. His guardian had taken the news of Harry’s successful quest as an opportunity to give Harry the ‘Talk.’ It was mortifying and Harry was quite sure that he wasn’t going to be able to even look Hermione in the eye.

He was thankful, however, that Uncle Sev had been the one to give him that information and not Sirius. Harry could only imagine how terrible and skewed the talk would have become if it had been given by his godfather who was at best a womanizing man whore–Uncle Sev’s words, not Harry’s.

Harry found that Hermione was already waiting for him. “Hey, Hermione,” he greeted.

“Harry. Shall we begin? I’ve got some studying to do if I’m going to beat you on that Runes test on Friday.”

Harry scoffed. He wasn’t going to be polite this time. If she was going to keep up her banter, it was high time he fought back. “Unlikely. But if you want someone to tutor you on it, I’m sure I could find the time.”

“As if I need a tutor. And if I did, there’s no way I’d choose you. I’m not that desperate to win.”

Then the two broke out into laughter.

“So, how do we do this?” Harry asked when they calmed down.

“Well, this room was used for dancing lessons way back. The turntable and some records are still here, actually, so I thought we could use those. We’ll start with a simple waltz and work our way up to some more complicated dances.”

“Sounds good. I have no clue what a waltz is, though.”

“You’ve really never danced before?”

Harry walked further into the room and took a look around before answering. “I was raised by Severus Snape. He’s a great guardian and I love him, but the man wouldn’t know what a dance was if it hit him in the face.”

Hermione giggled. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry gasped, horror written all over his face. “He’ll make me brew Harrow’s Healing Potion again.”

“That potion is meant for masters,” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him. “There’s no way he’d ask you to brew it.”

Harry scoffed. “He’s done it before. Whenever I annoy him too much, he always sets me a master’s level potion to brew. And I don’t get to brew anything else until I’ve got it right. I brewed Harrow’s for the first time the summer before first year.”

“And you were successful?” Hermione asked, shocked. 

Professor Snape had said Harry was a prodigy at potions. Despite the odd name Harrow’s Healing Potion was a potion used to treat human brains that had to be subjected to long-term sessions of mind healing. It was meant to rebuild neural pathways in minds that suffered from all sorts of mental illnesses from Alzheimer's to PTSD. It also cured Dyslexia oddly enough. It was one of the hardest potions she’d ever read about. Hermione also knew that she’d never even want to attempt it because it was so hard.

“After like a dozen tries. He made me pay for the damn ingredients too out of my trust vault. So, please don’t tell him about what I said.”

“We’ll see,” Hermione said primly. “If you don’t step on my feet, then maybe I’ll keep it to myself. I’m sure Professor Snape would let me watch your punishment. That sounds great to me.”

“You’re always so mean to me,” Harry said in exasperation.

For the next hour, Harry tried his best to learn the steps to the basic waltz. He was astonishingly bad at it.

“How can you be so bad at this?” Hermione asked as she flopped down on a sofa and pulled her feet up so she could rub them. “Seriously, I’ve never met someone who was so uncoordinated in my entire life.”

“I’m really sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his feet.

“Don’t apologize. Just stop stepping on my bloody toes.”

“Here, let me do that.” Before she could protest, Harry sat beside her, pulled her feet onto his lap, and began to massage them gently.

Hermione blushed but let him continue. She’d never had anyone else touch her like this before, and this time it was the boy she’d been fancying for a while. She watched him as he slowly rubbed her left foot, trying not to moan at the sensation.

Trying to distract herself from the intense pleasure she was experiencing, Hermione said, “We’re going to have to try something different.”

“Like what? We’ve already tried doing the same step over and over again. You’ve tried drawing diagrams. You’ve even used stinging hexes,” Harry said with a scowl. 

Hermione giggled. “I didn’t think those would work, I was just sick of you stepping on my toes. Seriously, Harry, how can you not know your left from your right?”

“I do.”

“My sore toes prove otherwise,” Hermione said. “Don’t stop rubbing. I’ll hex you again if you do.”

“So, what else is there left to do? Maybe we should just give this up as a bad job. I’m sure there are loads of guys out there that you’d be better off with.”

Hermione glared at him. “You tricked me into saying yes. And I did. I want to go with you, and you damn well better learn to dance if you want to still be able to brew potions at the end of the night because I will injure you if you back out of our date now.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s getting annoying.”

“Sorry,” Harry said cheekily.

Hermione glared at him. Then her eyes lit up. Harry groaned. He knew Hermione well enough to know that whatever she had just thought of was unlikely to be something he’d enjoy.

“Negative reinforcement didn’t work,” Hermione said, giving him a look that said it should have worked. “So, maybe we should try positive reinforcement.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Hermione grinned at him. “If you can get the moves right, I’ll kiss you. On the lips. With tongue.”

Harry blushed, remembering the horrifying talk he’d had with his guardian before he arrived at his dance lesson. “Really? I mean why?”

“I want to kiss you, Potter. I’ll admit, I’m very curious about doing it. You look like you could be good at kissing. But I’m not doing it if you keep stepping on my toes. You only get your reward if you dance with me successfully.”

“But…”

Hermione pulled her feet off his lap and glared at him. “What? Do you not want to kiss me? Is the thought that horrifying to you that you have to protest so much?”

Harry put a hand on her shoulder before she could spring up off the sofa. “Nothing like that, Hermione. I want to kiss you too.” Harry blushed. “I just...it seems like I’d be using you.”

“I don’t care what it seems like, and it doesn’t matter as long as you’re not forcing me into it.” She looked at him. “It’s not going to matter anyway. You’re terrible at dancing. At this rate, you and I will never kiss, let alone get to the ball and actually dance.”

“You’re goading me?”

“Nope,” Hermione said as she stood up. “I’m pretty sure what I just said is the truth. Unless you’re going to prove me wrong? Or maybe I should go find some other bloke to kiss and dance with.”

Harry growled and stood up. He walked closer to her and then pulled her into his arms. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Nope. I’m pretty sure I’m adorable. Everyone says so.”

“Also, the ego on you is not attractive at all,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Whatever. Are we going to dance? Or not dance, as it were? I’ve not got all night.”

And so they danced.

-:::-

Harry didn’t get a kiss that night. Or the next. Honestly, he was getting a little frustrated, because Hermione kept making snide comments about how it was getting more likely she’d end up kissing Malfoy before she got to kiss Harry.

But her method of reinforcement was working. Because, despite how frustrated she made him, the constant assault on his abilities, along with the promise of a kiss at the end, was enough for him to finally start seeing some improvement after their third lesson.

“Come on, Harry. That was so close. We were literally 10 seconds away from the end of the song.”

“I know,” Harry groaned. “I was nearly there.”

“What happened?”

Harry blushed. Hermione was wearing a tight muggle t-shirt along with a pair of blue jeans that hugged her hips in an amazing fashion. When he had walked into the room he had almost had to leave immediately because he couldn’t stop staring at her. It wasn’t even as if he hadn’t seen her in such apparel before, but this time she just looked so beautiful he couldn’t help but really want that kiss she promised him more than he ever had before.

“You were distracted by me?” Hermione asked her own face flushing. “Such a perv.”

Harry laughed and shrugged. “Can’t help it. I’m a teenage boy who has a pretty girl in his arms.”

“Flattery will not get you anywhere, Potter. Now, let’s try one more time.”

Harry nodded with determination.

“1...2...3,” Hermione counted off. The waltz was familiar to Harry now. It was an easy dance, which was part of why it was so frustrating that he hadn’t been able to master it. Mostly it wasn’t that he couldn’t remember the steps, but that he was always slightly off with his timing, which led to a lot of pain for Hermione’s feet.

Step to the right. Step backward. Step forward. It seemed he was always just a bit too quick or a bit too slow.

Not this time.

This time, as the music played, Harry stared into his date’s eyes and paid no attention at all to the movement of his feet. He let the music play over him as if it were just a part of the atmosphere. Harry was so enraptured by the deep brown eyes he was staring into that he didn’t even realize the music had stopped.

He was only brought out of it by a pair of soft lips pressing against his own. Soon he realized that not only had he finally… finally… managed to get through an entire dance without stepping on Hermione’s feet but that Hermione was kissing him. On the mouth. It shocked him, but it only took a moment for him to kiss her back.

Harry would admit, at least to himself, that he had dreamed of kissing Hermione Granger for at least a year. She was the first girl he had truly fancied when he started to notice girls and that admiration had only grown over time. Those dreams paled in comparison to the real thing.

He had read accounts of first kisses. Most tried to describe the intensity as fireworks behind the lover’s eyes or maybe their toes curling in their shoes.

Nothing like that was happening to Harry. Instead, it felt like someone had started a fire in his chest and that fierce heat was slowly spreading throughout his body as the kiss got more and more intense. When Hermione licked his bottom lip, Harry thought he was going to explode. When their tongues touched for the first time, each tentatively sliding along the other, Harry was sure that this was the absolute best moment of his life.

After that, he didn’t do much thinking at all. He wrapped one arm around her waist and threaded the other through her hair, doing his best to hold her to him so that the kiss would never end.

Unfortunately for his dreams of a never-ending snog with the girl of his dreams, oxygen was not an option, even for wizards of great strength. So he pulled back and gazed down at the girl in his arms. She had her eyes closed and her cheeks were bright red. Harry would have thought she was embarrassed and maybe regretting kissing him if she didn’t have a beautiful smile stretched across her face.

“Wow,” Harry whispered. 

“Hmm,” Hermione agreed. She opened her eyes and then pressed her lips against his again. This time the kiss was shorter but no less intense. When they finally pulled apart again, Hermione grinned up at him. “So, boyfriend, ready to move on to the next dance?”

“B-boyfriend?” Harry stuttered.

Hermione giggled and pulled out of his arms. “Yup. Did you really think I’d kiss someone who wasn’t my boyfriend? Now, stop looking like a love-struck fool and change the record out. It’s time for the foxtrot.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hogwarts always went overboard when it came to decorating for the holidays. If it was Halloween, pumpkins the size of troll's heads graced the halls. Even Valentine’s Day, which outside of Hogwarts wasn’t celebrated at all in the magical world, found the halls of Hogwarts decorated in over the top colors of pink and sparkly white and popping magical lights.

Christmas was especially bad and was even worse this year. Trees were all over the place. 

Not that Harry hated Christmas or anything. He loved it. But the Snape household had always thought that a bit of minimalism was the hallmark of a good decorating scheme. They had a tree. Some lights. And that was about it. No stockings or anything like that, no tinsel or over the top garlands. Harry’s guardian wasn’t one to do anything like that to excess.

Uncle Sev always sneered a lot more during the holidays Hogwarts celebrated and Harry couldn’t really blame him. It was really over the top and distasteful.

This year was particularly bad as the Headmaster seemed to be set on impressing the visiting school delegations. To Harry, it mostly came off as garish and busy. 

The good news was, Harry thought, that Hermione looked gorgeous. When she had appeared on the Grand Staircase, he had been stunned into complete silence. All his thoughts had flown right out of his head.

Dressed in a shiny blue dress that hugged her frame in just the right way, Hermione was truly a vision. Harry didn’t know what he had done to deserve her being his date. Surely, she could have come to the ball with Viktor Krum or someone equally more impressive than he, Harry Potter, could ever be.

“Close your mouth, Harry, you’re going to catch flies,” she said with a smirk. So she knew she looked good and she planned on torturing him all night. Well, he could take it. He grabbed her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“You look stunning, Hermione,” Harry said, reverence clear in his voice.

“You’re my boyfriend, you have to say that. It’s in the rules.”

Harry laughed. “That may be true, but it’s also true that you’re going to be the absolute belle of the ball and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

Hermione just smiled at him and took his arm. “We just go right in, right?”

“Yeah. Professor McGonagall is going to keep the champions out here and they’ll lead off the whole thing with the first dance. I’m glad I’m not a champion.”

“Oh, so it’s dancing that kept you from entering and not the fact that you’d have had to fight a dragon?”

“No. What stopped me was that Uncle Sev would have murdered me if I’d tried.”

“Oh, that would have been way too harsh, Harry,” a voice said behind them. Harry turned to see his guardian standing behind them, a camera in hand and a smirk on his face. “If you had successfully used your cunning to enter the tournament against the rules, you would have been brewing the entire Master’s handbook over and over again until your hands were bleeding. That would have been a much more rewarding punishment. Death, after all, would have been much too quick.”

Harry just grinned up at his uncle. “What’s with the camera, Uncle Sev?”

“Apparently, it is a tradition for parental figures to get pictures at these events. I detest cliché, but this seems like an occasion to be remembered. After all, you managed to get a date and a girlfriend. Who knew you had it in you?”

Harry just glared at his guardian who only smirked wider. Hermione squeezed his arm and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Unless, of course, Miss Granger, you’d prefer there wasn’t any evidence of you having agreed to go with this hooligan? Then I suppose I could be persuaded to refrain from taking pictures.”

“Of course not, Professor. I’d love a few photos. Perhaps I could get a couple of copies so I could send my parents a set. They’d love to see it.”

“I’ll see to it, Miss Granger. Now, the both of you stand up against that wall. There aren’t any portraits there that will attempt to steal the spotlight.”

Harry laughed and led his date over to the wall that they’d been pointed towards. Ten minutes later, Harry was sure his uncle was pranking them. There was no way they needed that many photos.

“Uncle Sev…”

Harry saw the man roll his eyes, but he did put up the camera. “Fine. You can go into the Great Hall now. Have a good time. And Potter?”

“Yes, Uncle Sev?”

“Remember that talk we had. Do not make me a grand-uncle.”

With a final smirk, the bastard apparently lived to humiliate Harry, Severus Snape walked into the Great Hall. Harry just glared at his back. He could feel Hermione’s embarrassment from beside him.

“He really thinks we’re going to have sex?” Hermione asked, outraged.

“No, I don’t think he thinks that. I think he enjoys humiliating me and wants me to die due to blood loss in the rest of my body.”

Hermione laughed. “Good answer.”

“I’d never push you into something like that. First off, I’m 14 years old, and you’re only 15. And on top of that, it’s our first bloody date,” Harry said as he guided her towards the large doorway that led into the Great Hall. “He’s just being as arse.”

“Like usual, you mean?” Hermione asked cheekily.

“Hermione Granger? Agreeing that a professor is an arse? That’s the most shocking thing ever.”

“Prat. Wow…” Hermione trailed off as they finally got a look at the inside of the Great Hall. 

The place where they took their meals looked nothing like it normally did. Gone were the four house tables along with all their usual house-related decorations. In their place, the hall was filled with dozens of large round tables scattered throughout the Hall. In the center of the giant room was a dance floor that was easily capable of handling everyone above fourth year. 

But it was the decoration that drew their attention. Large ice sculptures graced the center of every table, large blue and white magical streamers flowed all around the hall, and ice blue fairies flew all around the room, giving off a soft blue light that made the entire hall feel like a winter wonderland. The normal enchanted ceiling was tweaked to actually provide the illusion of snow falling down onto the floor.

Overall, it was stunningly beautiful, and nothing like he thought it would be. The rest of the school was garish, but the Great Hall looked like it was actually designed professionally to be a winter wonderland. 

“They really did a good job,” Harry said. Hermione turned towards him and smiled. “It’s almost as beautiful as you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed a bit which made Harry smile. “Shut up, you prat. Now let’s find a seat. The champions will be called in soon.”

A few minutes later they had found seats with a few fellow fourth years that they were mostly friendly with. After holding Hermione’s chair out for her, and receiving a brilliant smile, Harry sat beside her and tried his hardest not to stare at her as she greeted the other members of their table. They’d only been dating for a couple of weeks, but already he knew he was a goner.

Sirius had told him about the Potter curse when it came to love.

“ _ Every Potter for hundreds of years has found their mates at Hogwarts. Usually, it’s the first girl they ask on a date. There’s just something about the Potter Family Magic that leads to them finding The One early in their lives.” _

“ _ So, when I start to fancy a girl, she’s going to be the one I’ll marry?” Harry had asked in disbelief. _

“ _ Probably. If you don’t, you’ll be the first Potter to break that tradition since Godric Gryffindor was alive.” _

Harry hadn’t thought much about it since they’d had that conversation during the summer. Harry thought mostly it was Sirius playing some prank on him. It was why he hadn’t really thought much about it when he had decided to ask Hermione to the ball. Sure, he had fancied her for a while, and getting her to go to the ball with him was great, but he didn’t think that they’d be together long term or anything. They were teenagers, for Merlin’s sake.

But now?

Now, Harry wondered if Sirius was telling the truth. He’d tried to ask Uncle Sev, but the man was useless when it came to Potter family history.

“ _ I’d literally obliviate myself before I learned anything about your family tree.” _

Hermione was everything he wanted in a girlfriend. Was she someone he could have a future with? Harry didn’t know, but the thought that it could be true filled him with the same warmth he felt every time she allowed him to kiss her. 

“You’re staring,” Hermione said. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s flattering. But try not to drool. That would get messy.”

Harry laughed and kissed her on the cheek gently so as to not disturb her makeup. “I promise that I won’t drool on you.” Harry paused. “Much, anyways.”

“Gross.”

Just then, Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall and announced the three champions. Harry saw Hermione roll her eyes when Fleur Delacour was announced.

“She’s not even  _ that _ pretty,” she grumbled. 

“I don’t think she likes being stared at,” Harry said reasonably.

“Really?” Hermione asked skeptically.

“I don’t think anyone is that snobby. It’s probably a defense mechanism she developed after being stared at like meat her entire life.”

“And you know this how?”

Harry shrugged. “She’s nice if you get to know her.”

“Are you friends with her?”

“No. I’ve just talked to her a couple of times in the library.”

“And do you think she’s pretty?”

Harry laughed. “That’s a trick question that any good boyfriend would know the answer to. Of course not, dear, there’s nobody as pretty as you.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Maybe say it less sarcastically.”

“You’re beautiful, Hermione. You don’t have to compare yourself to anyone else, surely you should know that I don’t. Is Fleur pretty? Sure. It doesn’t take away from your beauty in any way. You’re beautiful inside and out.”

Hermione kissed him on the cheek. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”

“Well, I can beat you in potions.”

“You’re also an arse.”

They laughed and bantered together until the first dance started. They watched as the three champions and their dates twirled around the dance floor, each with varying levels of dignity. Fleur seemed to be having trouble getting her date to stop staring at her chest.

“Maybe you’re right about that veela chick,” Hermione said softly. “She looks like she’s going to murder Davies.”

“That would be messy.”

“Indeed.”

When the dance was over, the champions took their seats and the Headmaster announced the feast. The next half hour was spent chatting and eating the delicious food which appeared on plates that appeared to take their order magically. The best part was the cups that could be filled and refilled with any non-alcoholic beverage they wanted. Harry chose cherry Coke, while Hermione had hers filled with root beer.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable meal made only better because they were able to talk about everything and anything. The bantering continued, but Harry didn’t think that would ever go away. The snarkiness Hermione had was one of his favorite things about her.

When the meal was over, the school was invited to the dance floor. Harry stood and held out his hand. “Care to dance, my lady?”

“Of course.”

“What, you’re not going to call me Lord Harry?”

Hermione scoffed. “Lord Harry? You’re already pretentious enough without a title.”

“I resemble that remark,” Harry said, feigning hurt.

“You definitely do. Now let’s dance.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They took their places and Harry smiled down at her as he put one hand on her waist while keeping hold of the other. 

“You really do look lovely,” Harry said softly.

Hermione smiled up at him. “Thank you, Harry. I know you mean it.”

The music started and Harry was instantly in another world. There were no others on the dance floor beside him and Hermione. There was no rivalry between them, no inter-house hatred. All that existed for him was her. He stared down into her shining brown eyes and knew right then that this was the girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with. It’d take effort. But Harry knew that the journey would be worth everything they put into it. 

“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”


End file.
